


the object of art (is to give life a shape)

by metaphoriclee



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, COVID-19, College Student Jaskier, Interior Decorating, Isolation, M/M, Paris (City), Quarantine, Wealthy Recluse Geralt, at how geralt lives, jaskier is appalled, this is the social isolation au nobody asked for, this makes sense in my head, too much description of furniture and rooms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaphoriclee/pseuds/metaphoriclee
Summary: “Geralt.”“Yennefer,” he replies, as he hears the voice from his phone.“I need a favour.”“What is it?”“My friend’s university is shutting down for the semester 'cause of the virus. He can’t afford a place to stay till he can get home. It’ll just be a week or two, hopefully.”“I see.” He pauses. “As long as he doesn’t bother me too much.”“He won’t, don’t worry.” Geralt ignores the hint of amusement in Yennefer’s voice. “I’ll give him your address.”Or, college student Jaskier and wealthy recluse Geralt are isolated together in Paris during the COVID-19 outbreak, and Jaskier takes on the project of transforming Geralt’s apartment, and accidentally transforms his life.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 101





	the object of art (is to give life a shape)

“Geralt.” 

  
“Yennefer,” he replies, as he hears the voice from his phone.

  
“I need a favour.” 

  
“What is it?”

  
“My friend’s university is shutting down for the semester 'cause of the virus. He can’t afford a place to stay till he can get home. It’ll just be a week or two, hopefully.”

  
“I see.” He pauses. “As long as he doesn’t bother me too much.”

  
“He won’t, don’t worry.” Geralt ignores the hint of amusement in Yennefer’s voice. “I’ll give him your address.”

  
-

  
It’s barely a day later when Geralt hears a knock on his apartment door. 

  
Reaching the entrance, he turns the large golden key sitting in its lock, followed by the antique handle beneath it. He swings the door open to see a dishevelled looking man standing outside in the hallway, bundled in layers of clothing and surrounded by suitcases and bags.

  
“Hi, I’m Jaskier - the friend Yen would have told you about.” The man smiles widely and with a flourish, bows deeply to the surprised Geralt, burgundy scarf coming untucked from his forest-green coat as he does so.

  
“Geralt,” he replies, and steps to the side of the doorway so the man can come inside. He’s exactly the person Geralt would expect Yennefer to be friends with - enthusiastic and outgoing, with, what Geralt must admit, is an impeccable sense of fashion.

  
Jaskier reaches down and picks up all of his suitcases and bags, somehow holding them all in his arms, and sidles past Geralt and into the apartment. 

  
-

  
Jaskier had taken a taxi to the address Yennefer had given him, not bothering to look it up beforehand. Upon stepping out of the car and unloading his mountain of bags, he’d realised that all of the buildings around him were huge, historic pieces, dripping with wealth and ornamentation (Jaskier’s ideal aesthetic, honestly). So, when he trudges up the staircase to the apartment number Yen had given him, Jaskier is expecting the place he’s staying at to be in a similar vein - expensive and richly decorated.

  
It’s not.

  
The apartment is barren.  


Geralt leads Jaskier into the apartment, which Jaskier can see even at a glance is enormous. He points out the bathroom on the right and the kitchen on the left, and waves vaguely towards what’s supposed to be the dining room in front of them, before veering right and up a tall set of mahogany stairs that lead to a second floor. Jaskier barely has a moment to take in the rooms - plain and barely furnished before he has to follow Geralt up the staircase.

  
“This is my bedroom here, and you can stay over there,” Geralt points one after another to the two doors in the empty hallway, before walking over to the second one and pushing open the door. Jaskier follows.

  
The room is like the others, empty and plain, and smelling slightly of dust. The floors are like all that he’s seen, composed of dark wood slats that run from wall to wall. The walls and ceiling are plain and white, and a long, wide window punctuates the far wall, peeling white-painted frames enclosing the small glass panes.

  
The only other element of the room is the fireplace, large and imposing, that makes up part of the left wall. It, like the window-frames, is ornately carved and painted white, but over the years, flakes of paint have peeled off, and dust has settled in a thick layer on the mantelpiece.

  
The place is antique, neglected and worn out - anyone else would have refused to stay in it. Jaskier loves it.

  
“It’s perfect,” he mumbles to Geralt, who is looking at him, brows furrowed, as though waiting for Jaskier’s judgement. “I love it, thank you so much.”

  
“Good.” Geralt replies, still watching Jaskier, who is beginning to unload his many bags from his person and place them in a pile against the wall closest to the door. “There are 2 more floors above us - I don’t use them much, but you can.”

  
Jaskier is bursting to ask more questions, but he gets the sense that Geralt won’t provide very detailed answers, so he stays silent instead. Geralt continues, when Jaskier doesn’t say anything.

  
“The top floor has furniture. You’ll have to get things from there if you want them. You can use any of the rooms. That’s it really.” 

  
Jaskier notices that Geralt looks slightly sheepish - he thinks maybe he feels embarrassed about not having gotten anything ready for Jaskier. He doesn’t mind though, so to put Geralt at ease, he tells him that.

  
Geralt just looks more embarrassed now, and quickly excuses himself to go and do something else, rubbing his neck, so Jaskier can have some peace to unpack.

  
-

  
Having met the apartment’s owner, Jaskier is a little less confused about its bare state. If he’s honest, Geralt seems like exactly the type to live in a huge Parisian apartment without even furnishing it. Still, he has questions.

  
As soon as Geralt has left, Jaskier leaves his bags, eager to explore the two remaining floors. He makes his way up the narrow staircase towards the 3rd floor, noticing as he does so the way the stairs are more worn and slippery in the middle and the way that they creak as he walks.

  
The third floor is just as lacking in furnishings as the rest of the house. Old, shuttered windows cover 2 of the walls, letting rectangles of light into the enormous room. 

  
Jaskier doesn’t stay long on this floor, and nearly runs up the last set of stairs to get to the top. 

  
The top floor is different, and it’s jam-packed. Furniture litters the room, from armchairs to tables to bookshelves to footstools, ranging in style and age from clean and modern to baroque and falling apart. Cardboard boxes are stacked haphazardly on the furniture, some open, others others sealed with tape. The smell of dust is much more present than in the rest of the house, and it seems to Jaskier as though nobody has come up here in years.

  
He makes his mind up to ask Geralt about it when he finds him again. 

  
Out of all of the furniture there, the closest thing to a bed Jaskier can find is a chaise longue, tucked against a wall conveniently close to the staircase. It’s faded and worn, and Jaskier recognises the style as late Victorian (so, a bit over a hundred years old), but it would still be better than sleeping on the floor.

  
Jaskier ends up dragging the chaise longue down the two flights of stairs to his room, trying (and failing) not to make much noise. Geralt doesn’t seem to notice the creaking of the stairs or Jaskier’s swearing - Jaskier doesn’t know where he’s gotten off to - and Jaskier hopes he doesn’t notice the subtle scratches the chair has left in the staircase. 

  
He makes another few trips to the top floor, and carries down some rickety chairs, a wooden footstool and an ornate side-table to make up the rest of his room. He’ll only be staying a week or two, hopefully, but better to be comfortable than not.

  
-

  
That night, lying on the chaise longue, Jaskier’s mind is filled with curiosity about one person in particular. How had Geralt come to own a huge apartment in Paris, and more importantly (in Jaskier’s mind), why the fuck did Geralt live like this?

  
He’s determined to do something about the man’s living situation, which, in Jaskier’s (expert) opinion, is absolutely dire. Even if he only has two weeks. 


End file.
